Good Bye

How does one move on so simply?
How does one just forget?

The times we shared,
the memories we made.
Have simply just vanished
and quickly faded away.

It was as if the ocean had attacked the shore,
erasing all the pictures that we had drew in the sand.

You seem so happy now.
At least that’s the image you portray.
But, I’ve seen that smile more than once;
I know the real ones from the fake.

Together we had a love shining bright.
Like that one street light that brings you comfort,
letting you know you’re almost home.

But, as our fighting became no stranger,
and the storm grew rapidly,
our light began to dwindle down,
and then simply just burned out.

She’s pretty—in that weird kind of way.
You always did like different.
I just assumed I was the lucky one.
The one that you let slip through the crack.

I promised myself I wouldn’t be bitter.
And that’s a promise I plan to keep.
I too, will find love again one day.
Just not as fast as you.

And I’m sure when loves comes my way,
that you will talk poorly about the new you.
Ill just say its your insecurity kicking in, raging its ugly head.

Try and get me out of your head. You may think you fool everyone,
but, you don’t fool me.
I’m that thought you just want to dismiss.
I’ll stay there till it’s time for you to move on.
Not a second sooner. 

 Erin Rabon is a student at Georgia Southern University, currently taking a creative writing class. She submitted work to Synchronized Chaos at the suggestion of her professor, and may be reached at er01403@georgiasouthern.edu

The Truth

The truth is I have been trying to forget you
The truth is I cannot find the right words to say
To be able to move on
To forget you forever
To learn to live without your words haunting me forever

The truth is that I forgive you; you had no idea what you did
The truth is it was entirely my fault for not defending my heart and soul
The truth is it was my fault I was broken
I couldn’t see
I couldn’t see the words you said were lies
I couldn’t see what I had to fight for
I couldn’t see my worth
I couldn’t see my own beauty
I just couldn’t see

The truth is I was lost before I ever was found
The truth is I should have tried
Tried to love
Tried to live
Tried to breathe
Tried
Tried to be

The truth is now I am full of regrets and pain
The truth is my misery, my hell, I created and it is my fault
I FORGIVE YOU!!  BUT I HAVEN’T FORGIVEN MYSELF!!!
And that is the truth
My truth

***************************************************************************************************************************

The Moment
There is a time in your life
Where and when you must have
The moment in which you must finally let go
Let go
Of all the words
Of the pain
Of all the pain
Of all that is holding, you back

This is the moment in which you must finally let go
Just let go
Of all the hurt and pain
Of all the wasted time

This is the moment to let go
Let it pass
Stop hanging onto the past
Stop letting it control your life
Just let it go
Just let it pass
Just let it all go

Because this is
The moment in which you must finally let go
Let go of everything that holds you back
Let go all that stops you from reaching your true potential
Just let it all go
Let everything go

This is the moment in which you must finally let go
Let it all fade from your memories
Just let yourself be free
Just let yourself be HAPPY!

***************************************************************************************************************

The Beat of Life

Imagine, dream, love, laugh, live, smile, cry, sing, and dance

Imagine a life
Dream a dream
Love yourself
Laugh aloud often
Live life to the fullest
Smile everyday
Cry a little less
Sing to your hearts content
Dance to the beat of your own life

Don’t waste time
Don’t cry more than you laugh
Don’t lie
Don’t abuse
Don’t rape
Don’t murder
Don’t lose yourself
Don’t lose your soul
Don’t wish your life away

Imagine, dream, love, laugh, live, smile, cry, sing, and dance

Hope for love
Hope for life
Hope for laughter
Hope for sun
Hope for all your dreams to come true

Be extraordinary
Be yourself
Be grateful
Be helpful
Be hopeful
Be anything
Be EVERYTHING

Imagine, dream, love, laugh, live, smile, cry, sing, and dance

Love
Love yourself
Love everyone
LOVE LIFE

Then
Imagine, dream, love, laugh, live, smile, cry, sing, and dance

********************************************************************************************************************

Sights and Sounds of Summer

As I look out of my window
I see
two teens playing a 1-on-1 basketball “horse” game
young children riding bikes and playing chase
little kids in inflatable pools, splashing and jumping about
Aww the sights and sounds of summers in small town
USA

The grass is green
The dirt is brown
The days are hot
Children outside from sun-up to sundown
Aww the sights and sounds of summers in small town
USA

************************************************************************************************************************

Forevermore

I Love You
Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday,
and Forevermore

I love you
More every day, more every week,
more than yesterday less than tomorrow
Because

I Love You
Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday,
and Forevermore

I love you
You are the other half of my soul, the other half of my heart,
the other half of me, that I have always needed

I Love You
Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday,
and Forevermore

I love you
More every day, more every week,
more than yesterday less than tomorrow
Because

You are my heart, soul, and the other half of me
The better half

I Love You
Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday,
and Forevermore

*******************************************************************************************************************

Black

Perfectly pressed black
shirt, slacks,  jacket, black tie,
polished black shoes

He is too little to understand
Too little to know why to cry
Too little to understand why all these people are here

Perfectly pressed black
shirt, slacks,  jacket, black tie,
polished black shoes

Laid out the bed
Waiting to be worn
Ready to waste away after all is said and done

Perfectly pressed black
shirt, slacks,  jacket, black tie,
polished black shoes

Today would be a sad day
Full of mourners
The loss is almost too much to bear

Perfectly pressed black
shirt, slacks,  jacket, black tie,
polished black shoes.

Memories are all that is left now
Pictures line the church walls
Flowers everywhere

Perfectly pressed black
shirt, slacks,  jacket, black tie,
polished black shoes

A sea of black
An endless stream of blue
A flood of love and loss

Once perfectly pressed black
shirt, slacks,  jacket, black tie,
polished black shoes….
Now collecting dust in the back of a closet

Linda Allen is an American from Oklahoma who may be reached at lindaallen4119@att.net and welcomes comments and thoughts on her writing.

Kicking off this month’s issue, Mind Intrigue, is a diverse collection of poetry by Sam Burks.

Dave Douglas’ The Clouds Are Upside-Down, compels us to think about how much of our personal perspectives are merely superficial at best as we are often caught up in our own daily rituals.

J’Rie Elliott’s piece, Your Heart, is about how one individual’s thoughts can be truly connected to another person’s thoughts, regardless of distance or communication.

Is rhythm writing out? Are poetry masters a thing of the past? Check out Bruce Roberts’ Poetry as Art.

Enjoy timely neuroscience news in Leena Prasad’s monthly column, Whose Brain Is It? Presented within the flow of the lives of fictional characters, this is a monthly column with a journalist’s perspective on brain research.

Read the preface to American Euphoria: Saying Know to Drugs, by Richard Wilmot, Ph.D.  This book promises a fresh perspective on drug addiction and a critical analysis of traditional thinking in terms of drug culture.

You can also read an excerpt from Author Stefanie Freele’s new short story collection, Surrounded by Water. Freele’s work has been featured in several literary magazines, journals, and anthologies.

Other writing this month comes from Sarah Ford. Ford’s life has been a series of struggles, including those related to drugs and alcohol and Parental Alienation Syndrome. Ford wants only the best for her children and for them to learn the importance of not creating barriers from labels or prejudice.

In performance and music…

• Christopher Bernard reviewed Shotgun Players’ production of Tom Stoppard’s The Coast of Utopia: Voyage, held at the Ashby Stage in Berkeley, California. The Coast of Utopia: Voyage was directed by Patrick Dooley.
• Kelly Munoz reviewed Opera San Jose’s production of Faust, held at the California Theatre, San Jose, California. Faust runs through May 6, 2012.
• Tapati McDaniels reviewed Ani DiFranco’s concert at the Rio Theater in Santa Cruz, California, held on March 26, 2012.

This month in visual art…

• We are happy to feature two recent works by Larry Azoth. Azoth’s work is representative of “magical realism.”
• George Teseleanu interviewed A.A. Smith (a.k.a. “Leo the Fox” on DeviantART). The artist refers to surrealism as “…the art of dreams, or the unconscious.”

Also, please be sure to check out Adrianne Anderson’s interesting in-depth interview with Travel Writer Francis Tapon.  Tapon is a successful businessman who turned his love of world travel into a new career.

NEW! Check out our Kickstarter Page and please help spread the word to others, so that we can reach our goal of raising at least $300 by June 1^st! Your support will help us provide more resources for our international volunteer staff, encourage writing and visual art groups to meet within their own local communities, and allow us to bring in technical support to revamp and maintain our website. If you have any questions about this project, please email synchchaos@gmail.com with “Kickstarter” in the subject.

Thank you and happy reading!

Moral Of The Story

So many questions
left unanswered
as I fall back into
the frozen hands
of the atomic clock

What is this story
that I am trying to tell?
Past these tired eyes
the planes and peaks
of the evolving countryside
speak to me in foreign languages
as I weep with joy
in the realization
that I am
just a figure
of speech
in my story

And with so many things
left unfinished
started to quick
and not thought of
all the way through
I carry on
bleeding and blocked
through the dialogues
of conspiracy
hoping, perhaps a little foolishly
that I am getting
that much closer
to figuring out
the moral
of the story

———————————————————————————
You Grew Up

See me running backwards
and you
stop dead in your tracks
I call out to you without
ever turning my head around

“When did this cease
to be a game?”

That was a good question
and you knew it
but the birds were chirping
louder than I was
(really, it was just echoes that you were hearing. The birds
were like stars, gone for a long time now)
And your window remained
wide open, even though
the weekend was dead now
and your work-
your constant cycling through
the melting clocks-
wanted all the nutrients
in your bones and in your
smile
but I wouldn’t let you
give it up, not
without a fight

But the decision
wasn’t mine to make

And neither
was it yours
apparently

———————————————————————————
Into Madness

Something was said
that rattled the foundations of
universal speech, a glitch
in the dialogue of our
internal stars
The cosmos quake behind the eyes
of ears stationed on the moon
where the pollution of noise
is usually not as bad
as in the cities
in my shoe
Some kind of phenomenon
is making waves in the words spoken
in now dead languages
as something else lays waste
to our dreams
What entity spoke those words?
What is making
all this noise?
Who planted the barrier of sound
between the ear-canals
and the symphony of birds and
clouds and other forms of truth?
Who else but ourselves
would have any kind of
emotional investment
any kind of fear or reservation
about the impact of truth and knowledge?
Yet again it seems
that we have talked ourselves
into madness
rather than talking ourselves
into joy

———————————————————————————

Milkyway

Not many stars
that I can see
but the brightest points in the sky
speak directly
to me
a familiar voice
carried far
through empty
and desolate time
reminding me
of who and what I am
and where
I am going

———————————————————————————

Sam Burks can be reached at srburks@gmail.com.

The Clouds Are Upside-Down

In a universe designed so grand
A particle-puzzle for the under-manned
Among the world-view of random
We stand on the south end of town

And miss the dewdrop of wisdom
While the clouds are upside-down

Bound to the tracks of mass radio
Or caught in a stained-glass window
The spirit is obscured by ritual –
The bride is lost, along with her gown

And we miss the showers of the faithful
Even as the clouds are upside-down

In a world without second nature
On the metric scale of the future
Through a fiber-optic sense of vision
We breed an artificial crown

And are caught in a storm of reason
Although the clouds are upside-down

Among the cast without a heart
Can we draw closer to the start?
In the flooded mind of obsession
We may reach bottom before we drown

And miss the lightening of redemption
While the clouds are upside-down

————————————————————————-

You can reach Dave Douglas at carpevelo@gmail.com.

Your Heart

My darling, I hear the pain in your heart,

When you call me from so far away;

I can hear the loneliness and fear inside.

While we are apart each day;

Do not think that you can hide from me,

Do not think that I don’t know—

Do not think that I don’t feel the same

Because where you go, I go.

I go with you each step you take,

My heart is not my own.

You carry it in your pocket each day—

Each day that you must roam–

One day there will be a last time,

In which we must say good bye;

One day we will not have to part again,

From the other’s side.

But until that day is here my love,

And until we are side by side–

Know my heart knows your heart,

And from me you cannot hide.

————————————————————————————–

J’Rie Elliott is a poetess and ongoing contributor of Synchronized Chaos. To contact her, send an email to dixiepoet@gmail.com.

Poetry as Art

Ancient concept

Words tumbling onto papyrus,

Parchment,

Whirling through patterns,

Rhythms,

Sometimes rhymes;

Thoughts

Wondrous, profound,

Scenes sensual,

Significant,

Life.

—-

Blind, broad-shouldered

Homer

Anchoring Shakespeare

Burns, Eliot, Frost

Et. al.

Wide world wordsmiths

Audible artists

Who tantalize the tongue

To lick

The language

Trippingly

Aloud

For ears through the ages–

Mankind eternal!

—-

Yet here I hang,

Solitary poem

On a gallery wall—

Verbal intruder

Amid oils evocative,

Watercolors whimsical,

The solidity of sculpture.

—-

The lady in charge

Puttering,  straightening

Glances at me,

Rubbing her rag slowly

Across my frame,

Whispering

As I pretend not to hear:

“No one reads anymore.”

And

Delicately

dusting,

moves on.

—————————————————————-

You may contact Bruce Roberts at brobe60491@sbcglobal.net.